Love Is
by Universe
Summary: Drabble: Piccolo's thoughts on love.


Just a little drabble :) It's the Holiday season and thus, I felt the desire to write something based on the holiday's main focus - love. 

Happy Holidays, everyone! 

Warning: Some cursing. 

**Love Is**   
.   
.   
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When you're laying around with nothing to do other than sleep and wait to die, you really start to think. Look at me, I can't even turn over in bed. I can barely raise a glass to my lips and drink. My limbs feel heavy. Even the slightest motions leaves me so exhausted I just want to sleep some more. ChiChi and Gohan have to do everything for me...they bathe me, wipe my ass, tip water glasses to my lips, turn me when I need it, rub lotion on me, massage me when I get a cramp, inject my medicine, fiddle with my oxygen tubes, feed me ice chips....some mornings they even have to brush my teeth for me because my elbows like to lock up on me. All I need to do is raise my voice or make a sound and somebody appears to check on me and handle my needs. Funny how the less dependent Doramu gets, the more dependent I become... 

Feh, ignore my ramblings. I'm just blowing steam. I hate being this helpless. I hate the agony I feel in my hips every time I move my legs. I hate pissing in a diaper. I hate this cancer. I hate dying. I hate seeing Gohan tear himself up over losing me. I hate being a burden. I HATE being WEAK! I hate seeing people cry over me. I hate this crusty taste in my mouth. I hate being cold and nauseated all the time. I hate having tubes on my face to help me breathe. I hate puking for no reason. I hate being trapped indoors. I hate not knowing whether or not I'll wake up the next time I drift off to sleep. I hate saying goodbye. I hate not having a future. 

...but the here and now isn't so bad. I've learned so much with what little time I have. It's a bit like....like the little kid who just wants to look up a word in a dictionary and ends up finding a novel instead. 

Love. 

Yes, _love_, that emotion with so many forms and meanings that it's disgusting. 

I first tasted it when I met Gohan. That damn weak little brat born of the bitch from hell. My only intention was to train him so I could live. Yet he didn't fear me forever like most people do. Over time he stopped acting so intimidated. You see, I didn't understand what it was to be a child. His babyishness annoyed me. I didn't understand why he'd been pampered. If I was bluntly honest with you.....I was jealous. Jealous that he grew up loved, cared for and happy while I suffered cold and alone, tormented by my sire's past life and unsure if I'd survive the next day. My dreams were always nightmares. In my eight years of life I'd never met anyone who didn't see me as a monster. Then Gohan came along. He became the closest thing I had to the childhood I would've wanted had I been born with my own soul. I went from wanting him strong to save me to getting stronger so he could protect himself. I promised him I'd protect him no matter what. And in the end, when I saw his death looming in Nappa's blast, I knew people would weep over him, mourn him...and I'd feel guilty for eternity. But if I passed? Nobody'd even notice. Who would cry for a demon like me, anyhow? B'sides, I knew the senshi had the means to wish me back. And.....I just couldn't let that innocence die. I couldn't live with myself if I let that kid down. Craziest of all? He _cried_ for me when I died there. The look on his face when I came back made my eyes misty. I spent the next several years just being around when he needed me. Trying to understand this emotion he called 'love'. Trying to make sense of ChiChi's awed face whenever she saw how much Gohan grew in the last year or however long she looks back in time. 

Then I found out I had cancer. Fatal cancer of the blood. A disease that left me looking like I've been starved for months and left to the elements. Every morning I look down and count the bones in my wrists and fingers. Sometimes I count my ribs. I find more every day. I easily fit into one of Gohan's t-shirts when, before I fell ill, I would've ripped them at the seams. I know, I'm wearing one right now while my pajamas are in the wash. A shirt and a diaper, just like Doramu....who at the moment is taking a nap on my chest as I ponder all this. I feel like such a weakling, but I really can't complain. It's not like anybody outside this house will see me this way. 

Bah, I'm getting off track. My mind ups and wanders a lot these days. It's hard just to hold onto a thought. Either the pain meds have me loopy or my brain's shutting down early. 

Where was I? Ah, yeah. 

I wanted something truly mine. Something to love. Something to go on long after I could not. I wanted to change the mark my name left on the world. Couldn't erase it completely - but - I could write another mark over it. Change its shape just a tad so it doesn't look quite so evil and horrible. 

And thus came Doramu. My snot-nosed, slobber-faced son...and that was where I truly learned how to love. Where I learned to understand that wistful look ChiChi gave to Gohan. Because now I give it to Doramu. Here he is, crawling, and it feels like just yesterday I met his eyes for the first time. He was so tiny he fit in my palms. Now? He's huge compared to then. Enormous. He takes up my entire chest and I feel his weight when I let him rest on me. 

Babies are just glamorous aren't they? They eat, eat and eat some more. They make a stinking mess in their diapers. They smell funny. They make strange noises. They scream until your ears bleed. The funny thing? When it's your own baby, all that doesn't matter when he smiles. Whenever Doramu smiles at me, I know he loves me. I know he knows I am the only person he can call 'dad'. I created him. He IS my life. I would die a thousand deaths, give up my soul, cross infinite universes, peel off my skin and eat my own gore if it meant he, my precious, helpless little son, could keep living. Anything to make sure that heart beats and those lungs breathe. I live for his smile. For those tiny hands wrapped so tightly around my fingers. For that heartbeat, the heave of his breath and his warm weight on my chest. His laughter, his tears, his anger, his amazing personality. I created them all just by giving him life. It's a gift I hope he can pass on forever. 

My feelings for ChiChi are...they're hard to explain. She and I kind of called a truce when she let me share Gohan's bedroom. I could talk to her and she often had the best advice around. We're both warriors....moreso than Gohan is. For a long time her presence was solely and annoyance to me. Then I got used to her, even welcomed her into my thoughts, when she asked me how I was and what was on my mind. We came to a mutual understanding. I let myself accept her embarrassing gestures of kindness. And kisses....holy hell our first kiss was the most amazing sensation I've ever felt. It held such power over me. Honest to gods, had my mouth not been glued to hers, I would have moaned uncontrollably. I was in such physical pleasure. My heart pounded and the blood rushed through my ears. Heh, that sensation must be why humans seem to like kissing so much. I stopped minding it when she touched me after that. I....welcomed it. Later on, when she held me to her heart while I wept, helpless and afraid, I felt the same stirrings within me. I learned the real meaning of the kiss - a gesture of love - and pressed my lips to her mouth like it was the last thing I'd ever do. I wanted her to know how I felt while I still had the chance. And it was wonderful. 

But what is it like to BE loved? It's....it's amazing, really. 

Being loved is Doramu's tiny hand wrapping itself around my finger. Being loved is knowing that no matter what I look like, how sick, ugly or thin I get, ChiChi and Gohan will still come when I call for their help. Being loved is someone offering me help before I ask for it. Being loved is waking up after a night of fever to find Gohan sitting up next to my bed, asleep, his hand wrapped around mine. Being loved is having ChiChi press me to her chest like a baby when I become so terrified of the unknown that I break down and cry - and the knowledge that she won't judge me weak for it. Being loved is seeing Doramu smile at me whenever I speak to him. Being loved is Gohan opening the window for me every morning when he wakes up. Being loved is the soft little kisses I feel ChiChi plant on my face every time she comes into the room. Being loved is Gohan reading to me when I'm so bored I want to go insane. Being loved is that look of utter love and trust I see in Doramu's eyes whenever I hold him. Being loved is ChiChi's hand caressing my cheek when I am in pain between morphine doses. Being loved is knowing Gohan will come into my bed or let me climb into his when I'm lonely. Being loved is the backrubs ChiChi gives me after every bath. Being loved is Gohan taking me out to the cliffs when I couldn't make it by myself. Being loved is the both of them dealing with me without complaint when I'm such a burden on them. Being loved is their ability to just laugh it off when I take a dump that stinks up the entire house. Being loved is knowing they're always here for me no matter what. Anytime, anywhere, anyhow. 

Regardless of everything else. Regardless of my failures, mistakes and misdeeds, I've done one thing right: 

I, Piccolo Daimaou Jr., know what it means to love and be loved. 

THAT will be my legacy. 


End file.
